


The Good Girl

by 5t4c3y



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Coming of Age, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Self-Discovery, Sexual Content, touchy subjects
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5t4c3y/pseuds/5t4c3y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hadn't been in love the first time I had sex. Momma had always said that when the time came for me, that I would be. But I wasn't. She had always told me that it would be with my husband. My soulmate. Not with some guy I had just met. Not in the passenger seat of a beat up truck. I wish she had told me that story instead of the fairy tale. NOT A SLOW BURN. AU/NO ZA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yeah, so have you ever sat down to update a story and then realized that a totally new one has been born? Lol, well that's what this is.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm quite nervous about this story, I've never written anything like it before. This style of writing is very different from my usual, but sitting back I thought, 'Hey, what the hell?' lol.
> 
>  
> 
> I really hope that you all enjoy :o)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Alas, I own nothing…
> 
> ………

 

I hadn't been in love the first time I had sex.

 

Momma had always said that when the time came for me, that I would be.

 

But I wasn't.

 

She had always told me that it would be with my husband. My soulmate. Not with some guy I had just met. Not in the passenger seat of a beat up truck. I wish she had told me that story instead of the fairy tale.

 

Good girls don't sleep around, had been her mantra.

 

I was still trying to convince myself that's not what happened…

 

**Chapter One**

 

I couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment where I zoned out from my Daddy's ramblings. In my opinion, that's all they seemed to be these days. Not that my opinion was often asked for in the first place.

 

Once again, he seemed to be fixated on the boys down at the gas station. The ones that gave ourlil' ole town a bad name. You'd think they had committed a murder with the fuss he was creating; the bowl of mashed potatoes letting out a loud clang as he set it back on the table.

 

Glancing over at Maggie, I could tell that she felt just as drained with his bumbling's as I did. I tried my hardest to bite back my smirk as she rolled her eyes; our disinterest – not that it came as a shock – going unnoticed by Daddy Dearest. The warning glance from Momma, however, was enough to let us know that she was well aware.

 

I had come to learn that avoidance of eye contact was the best solution when it came to Momma's glare.

 

Head bowed, I fixed my gaze to my plate before the glare could turn into the tone; Maggie handing me the basket of bread as my Daddy's rants finally died down.

 

"Bethy, would you like to lead us in grace." It came as more of a command than a request.

 

Daddy always saw leading the family in prayer as a reward. I saw it as another minute being stuck at the dinner table.

 

He prided himself, my Daddy did. Having two 'Godly' daughters seemed to be such a blessing, according to him. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the praise he got from the church folks on his good parenting. But saying that, the praise could have been the blessing he'd been talking about.

 

Instead of questioning him though, I just closed my eyes.

 

"Thank You Lord, for the food we're about to receive…" I recited like I had so often "Bless it to our bodies, and bless the hands that made and prepared it. Amen."

 

The chorus of 'amens' rang out before the table came to life, my Momma and Daddy getting caught up in conversation right away. Turning to start my own with Maggie, I was stopped short by the sound of her phone ringing. Momma's glare returned full force at that, but before she could even open her mouth to scold, Maggie was up and away into the next room.

 

"See that damn phone…" Momma groaned "I swear, one of these days I'm takin' it away from her."

 

"Just take the power cord." I smirked "Watch the fear in her eyes grow as the battery dies."

 

As stern as Momma was, and as much as she liked to think of herself as prim and proper, she couldn't stop her snort of laughter escaping. Even Daddy let out a soft chuckle, his spluttered cough into his ice tea a feeble attempt at masking it.

 

"Thought you were the good one." She joked.

 

I had to force the smile that came as a reply, a quietness falling amongst us.

 

The sound of cutlery scraping against the plates hung in the air as Maggie sauntered back in a few minutes later, a beaming grin plastered on. No doubt lover boy Glenn had been the cause. The whole thing was quite sickening to be honest, but he was a nice guy, and Momma and Daddy seemed to approve.

 

"Dinner time is family time, Margaret." Momma ground out.

 

I watched as Maggie visibly cringed at the use of her Sunday name, a mumbled apology spilling forth as she reached for her fork.

 

We sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime after that; Momma and Daddy occasionally muttering something to the other as Maggie tried – and failed – to test her skills in subtlety by texting under the table. It never failed to amaze me how lonely a family meal could actually feel.

 

"Beth…" Momma finally spoke, a smile breaking forth as if she had suddenly remembered something important "Your dance teacher, Ms. Peletier is it? Well, she called today." I could feel my stomach begin to churn "She told us that you've been shortlisted to perform for the talent scouts from Juilliard!?" I could only stare at her "Why didn't you tell us you were doin' so well?"

 

"I 'unno…" I mumbled with a shrug "Forgot, I guess."

 

"Well, just you make sure you get the practise in." My Daddy boomed before placing his cutlery on his empty plate "There's a lot of excellent dancers out there. You need to show them that you're the best of the best."

 

And that was exactly why I didn't want either of them finding out.

 

"I will, Sir." I nodded, hoping that would end it.

 

And it seemed to.

 

"…Good girl."

 

………

 

"You better be comin' out tonight, you bitch." Rosita barked down the phone "No way can you miss the fucking party of the century."

 

"Rose, you hold the utmost of class, y'know that?" I giggled, the phone wedged tightly between my ear and shoulder as I finished coating my toenails in Innocence polish "But I can't. Daddy would go nuts."

 

Her sigh couldn't have been more exaggerated if she had tried.

 

"It's a college party, Beth, not a fucking orgyJust tell your Daddy you're coming out with Tara and me."

 

If only it were that simple.

 

You see, I had only ever been to one party that hadn't consisted of someone blowing candles out. I was fourteen, and had been dragged out by the ear when my Daddy had discovered me playing spin the bottle. The damned thing hadn't even landed on me once and I still got my hide tanned.

 

"You need to fucking live a little, Good Girl." She so eloquently carried on.

 

Now Rosita – believe it or not – was one of my best friends, and to put it frankly, was one of the biggest bitches for miles; but where most would take offence at the label bestowed upon her, for some odd reason, she seemed to pride herself on it. Daddy, right from the get go, had said she was nothing but trouble and that good girls like me shouldn't be hanging out with the likes of her. Momma on the other hand, had quickly found her lovable side.

 

Daddy didn't win that argument.

 

Screwing the cap back onto the bottle of nail polish, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to the party. No matter how hard I tried. I knew if I were to ask Daddy that the word 'no' would be out his mouth before I could even finish, and as intrigued as I was about going, I wondered if wasting precious breath was even worth it in the end.

 

"Beth…" Rosita called out over my thoughts "You're eighteen years old. You've just graduated. You don't always got to be the good little girl that mommy and daddy expect you to be."

 

"…I'm not." Was my feeble response.

 

And what an Oscar winning performance it wasn't.

 

"Then come out!" She chuckled "Drink a little. Smoke a little. Fuck a stranger or two."

 

I couldn't stop my laughter. As articulate as Rosita was, the word 'fuck' seemed to be in her top five favourites.

 

"There, laughter equals agreement!" She cried out "Now get the fuck up and get dressed. I'll pick you up in half an hour. What your parents don't know, won't hurt them."

 

Arguing was obviously futile.

 

"Fine!" I caved, staring down at my newly painted toenails "I can only hope you're right."

………

 

Daddy had always told me that it was easy to be wise in hindsight, but if you had already been wise to start with and still went ahead with your actions, then you were a fool right from the beginning.

 

In my case, I don't quite think that fool was a strong enough word.

 

Creeping down the stairs in my best dress, I had known that sneaking off to the party was the fool's way. When Momma had stopped me in the hallway, the chanting from my inner self to head back up the stairs had rang out loud and clear. But still, I stuttered out the pathetic excuse of heading to the diner with Rosita and Tara before shuffling out the front door.

 

She had watched me the whole time, a small smile tugging at her lips as she gently waved me off. I could tell she knew that I had lied. It danced in her eyes. But then again, the guilt that hung over me as I climbed into Rosita's Beetle had been enough to blind me from all reality. Tara and Rose had managed to keep the journey alive; the excitement they felt for the party masking my discomfort.

 

We eventually found ourselves on the outskirts of Senoia just before the sun went down, the old farm house – not unlike my parents – lit up like a Christmas tree. The minute we stepped out of the car, my Daddy's words echoing in my ear, I wondered if faking a stomach ache was enough to head home.

 

My friends had called bull before I could even mutter a goodbye.

 

So that's how I found myself where I was. Standing in the corner of the living room – Rosita and Tara nowhere in sight – the party in full swing.

 

I had no idea how long I had been standing there, my gaze fixed firmly to the front door just waiting for my Daddy to burst through at any given moment. With the thumping music and the screaming frat boys, I couldn't even begin to comprehend how people found these things entertaining. But I guess most people didn't have a father like mine.

 

Scanning the room, I caught a brief glimpse of Tara talking to someone. Rosita was still nowhere to be found, but at the sound of her laughter carrying over the noise, I knew she couldn't have been too far away.

 

Turning back to the door, waiting seemed to be the only thing I'd be doing.

 

"Just run already." A gruff voice huffed out "Ain't no one goin' to stop you."

 

The guy the voice belonged to looked to be just as enthralled with his surroundings as I did. Bottle of bud in hand, he never looked at me, his eyes cast out into the sea of people as they gyrated to the beat of the music.

 

"Excuse me?" Was my response.

 

"You've been starin' at that door since you came in." He elaborated before taking a swig "Figured you were either waitin' on someone or lookin' for an exit." Finally looking down at me, he smirked "Ain't no one else here with you, so the later it must be."

 

Crossing my arms over round my body, I gave a slight shrug.

 

"Guess parties ain't really my thing." I called out "Shouldn't really be here anyway."

 

He didn't say anything after that. Just stood there sipping from his bottle.

 

He didn't look like a college boy. Not your typical one, anyway. He seemed to be a little older than most of the guys there. 24 – 25 – maybe. His dark hair was in desperate need of a trim; his fringe falling into his blue eyes. At least I think they were blue. The scruff on his chin gave his face a lived in look, but even with it, I couldn't say he was unattractive.

 

Quite the opposite really.

 

I couldn't help thinking that he must have been sweltering in his leather jacket, but looking at him closely, there wasn't even a drop of sweat on him.

 

"Ain't you a little old to be at a college party?" I asked, breaking the silence.

 

"Ain't you a little nosey?" He replied, glancing down at me.

 

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. I was guessing not.

 

"Sorry." I muttered, my eyes roaming back towards the front door.

 

Silence falling over us again, I got the impression that he wasn't much of a talker.

 

"What's your name?" I asked, the quietness between us more awkward than the party itself "Mine's Beth."

 

For a long moment I didn't think he was going to answer me at all.

 

"Daryl." He finally mumbled, before gulping down the remainder of his beer "And I'm only here 'cause we heard there was a keg."

 

So he was a bit older.

 

"Your friends here?" I asked, hoping I had found some common ground.

 

"And my brother." He nodded "Ain't seen them in a while, though."

 

Looking round the room, I finally caught sight of Rosita; a smile stretched across her face as she led a burly man up the stairs behind her. Looked like I was going to be stuck with Daryl longer than I had thought.

 

"Same here." I sighed.

 

Shaking his empty bottle, Daryl huffed his own sigh.

 

"You want a beer?" He called out as he headed to the table of refreshments.

 

"Uh…" Came my articulate reply as I followed him "I'm only 18."

 

"So?" He chuckled, to cups in hand.

 

"Well…It's just…If my parents find out…" I couldn't have sounded prissier if I had put my mind to it "Sure, then…Why not?"

 

As I took hold of the cup, I could feel my heart begin to race, another quick glance at the door sending me into a panic. Any moment now and he'd come stampeding through that door. I knew it.

 

"You don't gotta drink it if you don't want it." Daryl smirked, downing half his cup.

 

I couldn't understand how he was still sober.

 

Relieved, but feeling my embarrassment make itself obvious, I set the cup down. My small smile of apology seemed to go unnoticed by him.

 

"You always do what you're told?" He asked, turning to face me fully for the first time.

 

"No." I replied hotly while crossing my arms over my chest.

 

Even I didn't believe my answer, and going from his laughter, neither did he.

 

"Calm down." He smirked "Was just wonderin'. It's just you seem kinda like…" Don't say it "The good girl."

 

And there it was.

 

"You don't even know me, Daryl." I muttered, straightening my back to square him up.

 

"Just sayin' what I see." He shrugged, bringing his bright red cup back to his lips.

 

The annoyance that bubbled up within me felt so foreign at first, his arrogant smirk sending a wave of determination washing over me. I would show him. I'd show everybody.

 

Snatching the cup from his hand, I gulped down the little that was left, the burning liquid slipping down my throat threatening to bring my dinner back up. Face screwed up, I threw the cup onto the floor; Daryl biting his thumbnail in amusement.

 

"You got a car?" I asked him.

 

"Got a truck." He answered.

 

Breathing slightly erratic, I fought back the urge to pick at my nails, a nervous habit I was so famous for. Staring up at him, I could see the wonder in his eyes as he waited for me to give him the word, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jeans.

 

"Beth?" He smirked.

 

"…Take me someplace quiet."

………

 

We ended up at the lake. The one that was hidden away deep in the woods.

 

And it was very 

 

Sitting in the passenger seat, I couldn't even bring myself to look over at him. I just sat there, staring out onto the water, the only light coming from the moon up above.

 

The sound of his breathing was the only thing I could hear. That, and the sound of my heart thundering away in my chest; each and every beat a threat that it would burst out at any given moment.

 

I could only pray that he couldn't hear it too.

 

"Beth." Daryl practically whispered, cutting in through the silence "You don't have to prove anythin' to me."

 

"I'm not." I said, my breath catching in the back of my throat.

 

I was proving something to myself.

 

Finding the courage to look at him I felt the goose pimples in my arms rise. But he didn't seem to notice. He waited for what felt like a lifetime before slowly sliding closer to me, his arm – without hesitation – slinking round my shoulders to pull me in. I could see now that his eyes were definitely blue.

 

I hadn't realized that I had been holding my breath until he leaned in, his lips gently ghosting over my jaw as he brought his other arm round my waist. Closing my eyes, I tried to relax into him. I tried to empty my mind of all worries; but with each wet kiss he planted on me, I soon found relaxation to be impossible.

 

Daryl was my first kiss, and I was shocked at myself for enjoying it so much given what I was about to do.

 

"Last chance." He whispered against my lips, his fingers tracing the hem of my dress as he pulled back to look at me.

 

But I couldn't stop him. I couldn't find the words to stop him. Instead I just nodded for him to continue.

 

I looked out the window as I felt the tug at my underwear; the sound of his belt clinking in the emptiness making it all so real. As he moved on top of me, his knees parting my own so he could lie in between, I finally looked back up at him.

 

"I'm a virgin." I barely whispered "…Just…thought you should know."

 

"Well, can't say the same applies." He said "But…I'll be careful."

 

I could only nod. As silly as it was, it was all I could do.

 

Once again, I found I couldn't look at him. My feet sat propped up on the dash board, so staring at my toes seemed to be the best distraction as he moved in closer; the freshly painted Innocence polish slightly chipped from my shoes.

 

I couldn't even bring myself to look at them in the end, each one curling in on itself at the irony.

 

As his lips found their way to my neck, I turned my gaze back out the window, my attention quickly being caught by my reflection in the wing mirror.

 

I never knew a day would come where I wouldn't recognize the girl who stared back at me, but as Daryl moved forward and the pain coursed through my body, she became a stranger.

………

 


	2. Chapter Two

** Chapter Two **

****

I could feel Carol’s eyes boring into the back of me from the other side of the room. I didn’t have to turn around to know that’s what she was doing. Staring at me with that penetrative gaze of hers; her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she silently critiqued my every move.

 

“Focus, Beth! You expect Juilliard to be impressed with that?” Obviously I had spoken too soon “Keep your leg straight. Get your head in the game, Beth.”

 

If my leg was any straighter I could shove it up her ass and have my toes dancing their way out her nose.

 

“And pirouette!” She called out “Nice, Amy. Good”

 

But then again, arguing back wouldn’t impress Juilliard too much either.

 

I tried to keep in time with the music; a challenging task for anyone who was subjected to the musical talents of 86 year old Tone Deaf Betty. Every week she’d bang on the old piano sitting in the corner, a cloud of dust lifting into the air before sending her into a fit of dry heaves. I often wondered why Carol hadn’t replaced her with a CD before now. She was probably hoping she’d up and die on us before she’d ever have to.

 

“And finish in arabesque.” We were a sea of arms and legs as we finally came to a stop, the piano carrying on momentarily “Well done, ladies. Getting better. Just make sure you put the practise in before next lesson.”

 

With a single nod of the head we were dismissed, and once again, I could breathe.

 

“Beth, could you stay behind please?”

 

Forget I said anything.

 

I couldn’t help but be ashamed at the weakness of my nod, Carol’s gaze fixed on me as I gathered my things together. As the girls shouted their goodbyes and promises of texts through the week – texts I knew I’d never read – I pushed my way to the front.

 

“Remember to keep that leg straight now, Greene.” Amy smirked as she sauntered past, her shoulder less than gently bumping mine “Wouldn’t want _that_ to be the reason Juilliard said no.”

 

There would never be enough words in the English language to describe my contempt for Amy Harrison. So for now – and probably for the rest of eternity – a glower would have to suffice. Since childhood we had barely been able to stand each other; a feud which had been born in the Christmas of ‘02 when I was appointed lead ballerina in our festive concert.

 

With the two of us now in the running for Juilliard, I could see that things were probably never going to change.

 

“Good _bye_ , Amy.”  Carol’s voice ground out.

 

Smile falling slightly, she quickly left, the heavy door to the hall banging close behind her. I could only hope that she tore a ligament falling down the stairs before next lesson.

 

“Beth.” Carol snapped, drawing me away from my thoughts “Are you with me!?”

 

“Sorry, Ms Carol.” I sighed, approaching her with dread “You wanted to see me?”

 

Arms crossed – definitely her most infamous pose to date – Carol stared at me with a mixture of annoyance and what seemed to be indifference. In all the years that I had known her, I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I had actually seen her smile, which was a shame really. She looked a lot less terrifying when she did.

 

“Tell me Beth.” She began in her usual monotone “Are your feet bleeding?”

 

“No, Ma’am.” I answered simply.

 

“Are your legs sore?”

They had been, but for different reasons.

 

“No, Ma’am.”

 

“Then what the hell is going on with you?” She asked with a shrug “You’ve seemed very distracted the last few lessons. Are you feeling alright?”

 

Images of running bloody underwear under a steaming faucet at two in the morning would have been enough to distract anyone. Two weeks on and they still managed to push their way to the front.

 

“I guess I’m just nervous ‘bout the scouts comin’.” I lied, a soft smile sealing the deal as I shrugged my bag further up my shoulder.

 

“Nerves are normal.” She reassured, the hard lines in her face fading “But don’t let them come in the way of you and your dancing. You’re good, Beth. Really good. The only thing you have to be nervous about is me kicking your ass if Amy gets the position, but don’t dare tell her I said that.”

 

One of her rare smiles broke forth then.

 

“Thanks, Ms Carol.” It was a poor effort trying to contain my smirk “I’ll definitely be keepin’ that in mind.”

 

“Good.” She nodded “We’ll have an extra lesson, you and I. Monday night, 7 o’clock. Your feet might be bleeding then.”

 

“I’ll bring the band aids.”

**………**

**“** What the fuck took you so long!?” I had barely set one foot out the door before Rosita was yelling “Places to go and people to see, Bethy.”

 

“Rose, I highly doubt that goin’ to the diner and eyein’ the firemen across the street falls into that category.”

 

“That’s exactly what I tried sayin’ to her.” Tara chimed in as she swung under the old railing of the stairs “She disagreed.”

 

Hands flying to her hips, Rosita could only glare.

 

“Hey, fire safety is fucking important!”

 

With a defence like that, I could tell law school was just around the corner.

 

It was just hitting two by the time I got out; the euphoric feeling of freedom – I could only imagine – resembling that of a convicts first glimpse at the outside world after a long haul. And that was only in my feet once the point shoes were off.

 

As predicted, we soon found ourselves in the small diner in the centre of town. The strong smell of coffee that hit you the second you walked in was enough to churn even the strongest of stomachs, but Daddy had always praised them on their brewed sludge. In his younger days – back when he was working as the delivery boy on The Jones’ farm – he’d find himself stumbling through the doors every morning with a crate of eggs and milk. He’d said that the coffee they tipped him with was what got him through the rest of the morning.

 

Personally, I think it’s because my Momma was the waitress with the pretty smile.

 

Finding our usual booth, Rosita had barely parked her ass before she was peering out the window; her head bobbing around frantically trying and get a good view of the fireman with the moustache. If subtlety was an Olympic sport, she’d have most likely been disqualified.

 

“Rose, have some dignity!” Tara chuckled while snatching up the menu she could practically recite.

 

“Is it just me or is there something oddly attractive about him?” She muttered.

 

“He’s a fuckin’ work of art.” Was Tara’s reply.

 

And not once did she look up from the menu, either.

 

It was the bell ringing out from above the door that eventually drew my attention away from my own menu. The difficult decision of what I wanted on my pancakes – lemon and brown sugar, or maple syrup and bananas – seemed so frivolous at that moment in time. And why wouldn’t they at the sight of him walking in.

 

I don’t think Daryl noticed me as he sauntered up to the counter, but if he did, he showed no sign of it. Hell, he barely even acknowledged Lori Grimes as she asked his order. He just sat there lost in his own little world, the people round him about as significant as ants. I could have sworn that my heart broke a little at the sight of him; the cloud of sadness hanging over him strong enough to shatter even the hardest of souls.

 

Drawing my gaze back to my menu ended up proving harder than I thought possible. No sooner had I managed to snap my attention away from him before Rosita was taking over as the Designated Daryl Drooler.

 

“Ooh…” She practically purred, her smile growing with every rapid beat of my heart “Looky what Beth’s found.”

 

On instinct, Tara swung round, her lips curling up in amusement before she turned back to face me with a raised brow.

 

“I never thought I’d see the day where lil’ Beth Greene would be eye-fuckin’ someone in broad daylight.” She joked.

 

The heat rising in my cheeks was enough to send them over the edge. Like a pair of hyenas, their laughter rang out; the noise attracting the attention of more than one patron.

 

“Y’know what, screw you guys.” I huffed, closing over the menu before sinking in my seat “Wasn’t eyein’ nobody.”

 

“Oh, honey cheer up.” Rosita bellowed “We were just kidding.”

 

Chancing another glance back at Daryl, I saw that he had finally noticed me. That, or he was just choosing to acknowledge me.

 

Face blank, he stared at me for what felt like a lifetime. To everyone else, I imagined the small exchange must have only lasted a few seconds. A brief meaningless glance between two strangers. But for Daryl, I could see. I could see in his eyes that he’d come face to face with a ghost. The ghost of a girl who had given him everything for nothing.

 

“…Just thought I knew him from somewhere.” I mumbled.

 

With a clear of the throat – one that I hoped hid the emotional mess I felt spilling within me – I grabbed for my purse.

 

“I’m goin’ to order.”

 

Daryl looked away when I pulled myself out from the booth; Tara and Rosita quickly getting caught up in something else worthy of their time.

 

Frankly, I didn’t know why I was so nervous approaching him. It wasn’t as if I had anything to be nervous about anymore. But still I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering.

 

When he’d dropped me home that night, I had quickly accepted that I would probably never see him again. After we had finished, he had quickly sorted himself, his belt buckle – once again – being the only sound that deafened me as I’d scrambled about for my underwear. We had sat there for maybe an hour before he finally brought the old truck to life; the sound of silence our only music as he drove me home.

 

I had chosen to do what I had done that night for none other than myself, so why I had spent the remainder of it in tears, I’ll never know.

 

As I approached the counter, I hadn’t thought about what I was going to say to him, the debate on whether I was going to speak to him at all too busy unfolding in my mind. Four feet away and I was still weighing up the chances of making a clean exit without bumping anyone.

 

But then he turned around, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly and it calmed me.

 

“…Hi, Daryl.”  It had been a hesitant greeting, my voice hitching ever so slightly as his name spilled out with a surprising amount of ease.

 

For a second I didn’t think he was going to reply at all; something I was realizing was a common occurrence when it came to him.

 

“Hey, Beth.” But I couldn’t deny I was glad when he did “How you been?”

 

I had never been a fan of small talk; or particularly good at it for that matter, but considering the nature of our relationship – if I could even call it that – small talk was probably most appropriate at that time.

 

“Good.” I nodded, tucking a stray hair behind my ear “…Good…And you?”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good?”

 

“Good.”

 

Laughing had seemed stupid in that moment, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself. A disgruntled, tuneless melody of a laugh.

 

Daryl didn’t laugh.

 

“That’s…good.” He must have thought I was the biggest idiot to walk the face of the earth in that moment.

 

We stood in silence after that, neither one of us knowing what to say to the other. Daryl looked away first when Lori came over; her smile so big and so bright I was almost convinced that she knew the connection between us.

 

“Hi Beth.” She beamed, her tattered notepad in hand “What can I get you today, Sweetie?”

 

I had known Lori Grimes my whole life. Watched her kids for her too. Every second Friday I spend my night playing video games with her son so she could have a date night with her husband.

 

A slight woman, she stood no more than two inches above me; a smile constantly etched on her face. But behind the friendly smile, there was glimmer in her eye. One that shone only to those who knew her well enough. One that whispered your darkest secrets back at you. She was nice to the right people – Lori was – don’t get me wrong, but I was fortunate that my Momma was one of those right people.

 

“Hey, Lori.” I smiled softly “Just the usual for us.”

 

Scribbling down our order, she glanced at Daryl out the corner of her eye. I could tell that she was weighing up all the scenarios. All the reasons on why I was talking to him. But instead of commenting she just plastered on that overly zealous smile of hers, tore off the order and handed through the hatch to Tyreese.

 

“You’re order won’t be too much longer.” She told Daryl, her tone changing ever so slightly.

 

All he did was nod, his gaze barely meeting hers before she turned back to face me.

 

“So how you doin’, Sweetie?” She also had a habit of speaking to me like I was twelve years old “How’s your Momma and Daddy doin’?”

 

I became hyper aware of Daryl at that moment. The boy; the man; standing next to me, the one I had given myself to only fourteen days before was  about to be subjected to a five minute conversation which would most probably leave him questioning the truthfulness behind my age.

 

“They’re doin’ fine.” I nodded, forcing a smile “Me, I’m just enjoyin’ the summer before startin’ college.”

 

Hopefully that would settle his nerves if he found himself wondering.

 

“I heard your Momma sayin’ that you got into Juilliard.” Leaning on the counter, Lori gave an impressed wide-eyed grin “That’s fantastic!”

 

“Well, I ain’t in yet.” I shrugged it off “Got the talent scouts comin’ in a couple of months to watch me dance. Can’t guarantee I’ll get past that stage, so I’ve registered with the community college just to be on the safe side. Got a job workin’ at Otis’ to help save for it too.”

 

“Aw, you’re a good girl, you’ll get in.” It stunned me that she thought my behaviour alone was enough to get me into a school like Juilliard “…How’d your Daddy take the news about workin’ in a place like Otis’?”

 

It was a no secret that my Daddy been the town drunk back in the day. Way before Maggie was born he used to stumble bar to bar, liquor store to liquor store, gasping for a drink. Otis’ was a favourite of his, a little liquor store only two miles from the farm which stayed open until 1 in the morning. Daddy would usually catch a ride home with him before Momma had the time to start worrying.

 

After Maggie was born he sobered up. By the time my brother Shawn came along the memories of him staggering through the streets had been almost obliterated. But after Shawn died, he slipped again. Thankfully it didn’t last long though. Momma threatened to leave in the night with me and Maggie. That had been enough to fix him.

 

“He wasn’t the happiest.” I admitted “But a job’s a job these days. Can’t be picky. Got a shift tonight.”

 

I didn’t miss the glance that Lori shot in Daryl’s direction, even if he did.

 

“Just you be careful in there.” She sounded like a mom “Don’t know who you’ll get through the doors that late at night.”

 

Out the corner of my eye I could see Daryl’s knuckles turn white. Apparently he had seen her glance.

 

“Don’t worry.” I smiled “I never get a customer in after 11…Tonight should be no different.”

 

She seemed satisfied with that, the ping from the bell at the hatch drawing her away to collect Daryl’s order. As she turned away, I took my chance to look at him. But he didn’t look back. Instead, he took his food, nodded his thanks and left.

 

He didn’t speak to me. He didn’t look at me. But I didn’t miss when his hand brushed the back of mines as he turned.

 

I knew that was his goodbye.  
**………**

I had a dream the night I slept with Daryl. A dream that I was standing at the riverbank. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing and I had been happy. When I looked in the river, the water had been as clear as newly polished crystal, and my reflection had stared back at me smiling and looking pretty.

 

I had basked in the sunshine for a while, my white dress blowing in the wind as I had danced amongst the daisies. I was in paradise. I had spun and spun and spun, my arms outstretched, palms face up towards the heavens and I didn’t think I was ever going to stop.

 

I didn’t think I could.

 

But then I had seen him. Daryl, standing on the other side of the river, one hand in his pocket and a bottle of bud in the other.

 

I had waved to him, called out his name but he had shown no sign of noticing me. I had searched for a bridge to cross and I couldn’t find one, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me.

 

Determination coursing throughout me, I had taken a step into the river; the water warm and inviting. Then I had taken another step, and another and another until I was totally submerged. As I had pushed forward, the sky clouded over, the suns warm rays becoming a distant memory. But I didn’t stop. Not until I had reached the muddy bank.

 

I had stumbled out, clambering up the slippery slope towards him. He never moved from his spot, but eventually, I reached him.

 

He had only smiled down at me, one which I had happily returned.

 

“I did it.” Had been my panted words, my hands grasping hold of the front of his jacket “I did it.”

 

Looking down at me, he had just continued to smile, the suns light completely gone.

 

“But what have you achieved from it, Beth?”

 

My smiled fell then, his words knocking me back.

 

Inching further away from him, I had been left dumbstruck. I watched on as more and more people began to emerge from the trees behind him. My Momma and Daddy. Maggie and Glenn. Lori and her husband, Rick.

 

Tara…

 

Rosita...

 

Amy…

 

Carol…

 

And not one of them had smiled. They had just stared at me in disgust.

 

Looking down at myself, I saw that my white dress had turned black. The river’s mud and dirt caking every inch of it. I had felt embarrassed. I had felt ashamed. But I had still done it. I had still made my way through the river.

 

But for what, I now didn’t know.

 

It was the photo of the river hanging behind the cash register which brought me back to that dream. I couldn’t understand why Otis insisted on its occupancy in the store, but he did. For ten minutes my gaze had been wandering between it and the clock. At 11:40, my predictions had proven correct. Not one customer in over an hour had stumbled in through those doors.

 

But I wasn’t one for complaining about that.

 

Grabbing the broom, I decided that making myself useful would probably help the rest of the shift go in a little quicker. I had already swept twice, but with the state of the floors, you couldn’t tell.

 

By 11:45, I was done.

 

It was closing in on midnight when I found myself, once again, staring up at the picture of the river and replaying the awful dream in my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder just how much Otis would miss it if something unfortunate were to happen to it.

 

But I was too chicken to ever find out.

 

The sound of the buzzer screeching out as the door opened, I’ll admit, surprised me. 12:01 was now the new record for the latest I had seen anyone come trudging in.

 

With a small sigh – and one final glance at the picture – I turned to give my generic, overly enthusiastic greeting to whoever had decided to grace me with their presence. But for the second time that day I was left stunned at the sight of him.

 

“Daryl…” Was all I managed to spit out “What’re you doin’ here?”

 

But he didn’t answer. Instead he turned, glanced out the glass door into the empty street, and flipped the sign in the door over to closed.

 

My heart was going a million miles to the gallon as he slowly turned back and began to approach me. But this time, it felt good. He came to a stop mere inches from my side, and without saying a word, reached in behind me to switch the lights out.

 

With the place in darkness, we were at no risk of being disturbed.

 

I didn’t stop him when he dipped down and kissed me. I didn’t stop him as he took my hand and silently led me further into the store.

 

I just followed him.

 

Through into the stock room, and back into the river.

  
**………**


End file.
